High Hopes
by Special Agent Tee-vah
Summary: The thoughts of her are swimming around in his brain, as if to say, "Look at this, remember this? Don't let this go. Don't let her go."


**Hey guys! So...I started writing this the day/moment I found out that Cote was leaving, and this is a really overdue story, yes, I realize. I spent quite some time trying to get it right, though, so that resulted in me not posting this up anywhere near as early as I should have. Sorry about that. But yeah, this is High Hopes, I know some people know where I got the title from ;) I was actually planning on uploading this in the morning...but I know that Sharmane would have killed me if I did that. So yeah, it's 4am, and I finished writing this 5 minutes ago. Yeah, so, read on and let me know what you think, please?**

**xx**

**Manda (:**

* * *

So she left. She actually left.

After eight long years, Ziva David finally made the decision to leave NCIS.

She left her workplace. She left her family.

The most important of all?

She left her partner.

It's been 3 hours, 37 minutes and 29 seconds since she crossed that departure gate. She left, and all he could do was just…watch. He stood there, staring at the gate she walked through, smiling and waving as if she was going overseas for a week.

She left, he stayed. She said goodbye, he wished her all the best.

_God_, he was so stupid.

He could have stopped her. He could have walked right through that gate, and no one would have cared. Hell, he was a federal agent, he could have said she was a wanted criminal and they would have let him through. He could have said anything, flashed his badge, and he could have gone through.

He could have told her to stay.

"Some good partner you are, DiNozzo. She's gone. She's actually gone this time. For good, too." He's slurring, and he's drunk off his ass. He let her slip through his fingers again, and that fact alone was enough to make him beyond angry. He takes a glance at the empty alcohol bottle in his hand – that one thing that's keeping him from feeling what he should be feeling.

He lets out a strangled yell of anger, and flings the bottle at the other side of the room. He slumps against the wall, collapsing on the floor, his face buried in his hands. The bottle lay on the ground, shattered into pieces, just like his heart.

This wasn't fair.

She came to them, lost so much, but gained so much in return. Now? She was giving it all up. For what?

She said she needed time. Time to think things through, to think about if she wanted to risk it all. She had taken so many risks in her life, and she needed to think about whether she wanted to put the people around her at risk.

Obviously, she made her decision, and left. The basis of her decision had been that she couldn't risk placing the people she cared about in danger. If she had stayed, odds were that someone would get hurt because of her, regardless of whether she was directly or indirectly the cause. At least, that was her logic.

His head throbs, and everything around him feels like it's spinning. Yet, all he sees and all he hears is _her_. The one that got away. The one that he let get away.

The thoughts of her are swimming around in his brain, as if to say, _"Look at this, remember this? Don't let this go. Don't let her go."_

"_Having phone sex?"_ And so they met.

"_I will kill you 18 different ways with this paperclip."_ The moment he realized that she was different.

"_Have you ever lied to someone you love?"_

"…_yes."_ That moment when he finds out that things were never simple with her.

"_Your uncle really died? I thought you were making that up to get some time off.__"_ It's things like this that make him understand that she really won't trust him blindly. That she has a background that makes it difficult for her to trust, even those closest to her.

"_Why are you here, Tony?"_

"_Couldn't live without you, I guess."_ When he sees that she means so much more to him, that she's so incredibly special to him, than he thought.

"_While you've been strolling around South Beach, dancing to the rhythm of the night."_ When he comes to the conclusion that yes, he gets jealous.

"_You did not tell us that Wendy sent you a Christmas card."_ She's only human; she feels the jealousy too.

"_At lo levad."_ When she understands, she's never alone.

"_They're playing our song, sweetcheeks."_ When he finally admits to himself, that he loves her.

Wait a minute.

He loves her, but he's letting her go.

_What the hell_ is he doing?

It's in that moment, that he realizes that he is so painfully stupid sometimes. He's letting the one get away.

He gets up, stumbles to the bathroom and splashes his face with water. His eyes are red- wait, he was crying? – and his face blotchy. He dries his face, and walks out of the apartment, waits on the pavement, hails a cab, and practically collapses into the cab.

_To the airport we go._

* * *

It's when he gets there, that he's slightly sobered up, and he realizes that really, drunk Tony cannot tell time, at all.

She left on her flight two hours ago. It's a strange thing, his drunk (in more than one way) brain.

"Wh-when's the next flight to Tel Aviv?" he slurs, looking the everywhere but at the lady on the opposite side of the counter. Everything fascinates him now, but the only thing on his mind is Ziva.

"I-In 4 hours," she stutters, slightly frightened by the drunk man in front of her. He smiles, and looks straight at her. It's startling; and what surprises her is how dark his eyes are. They're such a dark shade of green, and they're filled with such torment, and it stuns her for a minute, and she can't help but wonder, what hurt him so badly? She prints the ticket, gives it to him, and he pays, half-focused. She honestly doesn't know why he's so hurt, but she has an idea.

"Uh, Mr DiNozzo?" she calls, and he turns around, confused. He tilts his head slightly, and looks at her.

"Go get her." He stares at her, completely amazed that even a stranger could read him like that. Eventually he breaks out into a grin, nods, and walks away, yelling out a quick word of thanks. It's in that moment that she swears, she sees a glint; a spark of happiness return into his pained eyes.

* * *

"Coffee, black, thanks." He needs to sober up, he needs to be awake. He needs to be lucid. He gets his coffee, takes a sip, and _oh dear God; I'm turning into Gibbs. _He pauses, shakes his head slowly, and sits down.

_He needs to think._

First off, what the hell was he thinking? Going after Ziva like that…that could either be counted as either really sweet, or really stupid. Second, why now? Why realize this all now? Why did his brain have to decide all this now? Lastly, what if this was a mistake? All the doubts swirled through his head, and if anything, were going to worsen his headache. It could all be summed up into one short and simple answer.

He was a stupid romantic that would do _anything_ for her.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the moment he puts on his seatbelt in the plane, he falls asleep almost immediately. Being half-drunk while trying to stay awake for four hours at an airport, while waiting for your flight, is no easy task, as he quickly finds out. He wakes up a few short hours later with a barely there headache; being drunk so much as a teenager really helped him with the hangovers.

The flight passes quickly enough; there are enough movies on the plane to keep him more than well-entertained.

It's when he lands in Israel that he realizes, he has _no idea_ where to find her, but knowing her, she would like stability; a sense of normality, whether it be temporary or not. So he went straight to Mossad headquarters.

He gets to the entrance of Mossad, and before he even walks in, he sees her walking in. From a distance, she looks fine, she looks peaceful, even. But he knows her better than that; she looks tired. She's not even through the front door before he grabs onto her upper arm. She's surprised, and tries to fight her way out of his grip, but he knows her well, predicts her moves, and before she knows it, she's wrapped in his arms, his arms crossed around her.

"What-?"

"Hey, Ziva."

* * *

He's holding onto her as if she'll disappear when he lets go, like quicksand. She's just staring at him; things like this just don't happen.

"Tony-"

"No."

"Why are you-"

"No."

"DiNozzo!"

"No. Let me talk." He grabs her arm, and pulls her away. They come to a bench, and they sit down.

"Why are you here, Tony?" Déjà vu?

"Couldn't live without you, I guess." She gives him a flat look, as if to say, _don't give me that crap, I want a straight answer. _He sighs and looks up at the sky, resting his head back on his hands.

"I guess…you know I wasn't joking, right?" she snorts in response, and he rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious, Ziva. I meant it."

"I told you, Tony, I need time to-"

"Think, I know. Believe me, I know. That's all I've been doing, too." Now he looks at her, and she looks torn; resigned.

"Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"You said you needed to think," she nods, "let me be there. Come back home with me. You said you needed to think; I do too. But there is no way in hell, Ziva David, that I'm letting you go again. This time no one's got your back; you don't have the team behind you, you don't have _me_ behind you. Deny it all you want, you need us; we're your family, and trust me, we need you too." She looks pained and hesitant, and he knows that she's at least contemplating his request.

"But what if-"

"_Please."_

He sounds like he's brushing it off, as if to say it would never happen, but she knows that that one word alone holds a lot more meaning than that.

"Okay."

* * *

I've got high hopes, it takes me back to when we started  
High hopes, when you let it go, go out and start again  
High hopes, oh when it all comes to an end  
But the world keeps spinning around

* * *

**So, I personally think I didn't plan out that ending well enough, but it felt like closure to High Hopes, ya know what I mean? I hope you guys liked it, and leave a review! I appreciate them all (: So yeah, I hope you guys liked it, and see you with my next story! [I have 2 currently being planned out!]**

**OH and then there's this super important dedication. This is going to Sharmane and Whitney! Sharmane, who's put up with all my sneak peeks and quotes and everything for the last month or so, and my 'creepy' texts [What could you possibly mean, Sharmane? :)]. And this is to Whitney too, because I mean, WHOOOOOOOOOO.**


End file.
